


Wings, pt 1

by VeraBAdler



Series: October 2018 challenges [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 17:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16330874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler/pseuds/VeraBAdler
Summary: Cas needs a helping hand with his wings, but getting him to accept that help takes a little coaxing.Fictober prompt: “I’ll tell you but you’re not gonna like it.”Promptober prompt: Wing





	Wings, pt 1

**Author's Note:**

> I did not plan for this to happen, but this is only the first half of the story. I ran out of time and space today (since these drabbles are supposed to be under 2k), so I'm going to have to save the second half for another day this month. I'm not sure yet which day, but I have some ideas.
> 
>  _Edited to add:_ [The second half is up now](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16365065)!

“Enough!!” Dean declared, jumping to his feet and driving his fist down onto the map table.

Sam jumped so hard he almost fell out of his seat. He scrabbled instinctually at his waistband, where his gun would be if they were on a case. From his perspective, the three of them had been sitting around the table in relative peace for the last hour, sharing a quiet beer while they each pursued their own interests. Dean's outburst had come out of nowhere as far as he could see.

From Dean's side of the table, though, the view over the last hour had been different. He'd been watching Cas across the table – slumped sideways in his chair, sullen, squirming in place, and glaring at his beer bottle like it had insulted his guinea pig. The angel had been method acting the role of pouty teenager for days now, and Dean's last nerve had officially had enough of getting jumped on.

Still standing, he pointed down at Cas. “What is your _deal_ , man? You've been a little gray storm cloud around here since Tuesday. I tried to give you and your poison mood some space but it looks like your panties ain't gonna untwist themselves, so what the fuck, dude? What's _wrong_?”

Cas turned his baleful expression onto his friend. “I'm fine,” he snapped.

“Bullshit,” Dean countered.

“I'm _fine_ , Dean. Stop asking.” His eyes drifted back down to his beer and he picked at the edge of the label.

Dean reached across the table and grabbed the lapel of Cas's trench coat, hauling the angel roughly to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam gathering his laptop and scurrying out of the room. _Good_ , he thought. _One less bitchface to deal with_. He turned his attention back to his sulky friend.

He sighed and forced himself to cool down. Cas was a stubborn bastard, and pushing harder wasn't gonna get him to open up. He let go of the coat and walked around to lean against the edge of the table next to him. “Cas, buddy... Talk to me. You've been so unhappy lately. I'm worried.”

Cas had the decency to look ashamed for his behavior. “I don't mean to worry you,” he growled. “I know that I have been... Unpleasant company recently. You needn't concern yourself.”

Dean scoffed. “ _Needn't concern myself?_ Have we met? All I do, all day, every day, is _concern myself_. Now spill. What's the problem?”

At first, there was no response. Cas's expression closed off, as if he lacked the words to answer. Finally, he gritted out, “I’ll tell you. But you’re not going to like it.”

A chill ran down Dean's back. “What does that mean? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. Or at least, I'll _be_ fine, in time. It's my wings...” his voice trailed off.

Dean's eyes flicked behind the angel, but of course there was nothing to see. “What's up with your wings, buddy?”

“They...” he began, before seeming to change course. “You know that I've received many grievous injuries over the past few years.”

Dean winced, thinking about all that Cas had been through on his behalf – Hell, Purgatory, torture, the fall...

Cas saw his guilty expression and laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. “The things I've done, Dean, have been my choice. I don't blame you for any of it.”

Dean nodded. “S'okay, Cas. I blame myself enough for the both of us. But, so, the injuries are bothering you? Have they gotten worse somehow?”

“On the contrary. When I returned from the Empty, I was surprised to realize that, along with my grace, my wings had been somewhat restored. I doubt my mojo will ever recover to 100% of its former strength, and similarly my wings will probably never be completely functional, but they are much less damaged now.”

“So... What's the problem?”

He sighed. “It's been so long since I've had healthy wings, I'd let myself forget how much time goes into caring for them. As we've been so busy recently, I've been neglectful in performing basic wing hygiene. There are also some tasks that are difficult for me to accomplish on my own. Without another angel to assist me, I've let my wings fall into quite a state. It's deeply uncomfortable, and I've been letting that discomfort affect my mood. I apologize for that, Dean. It's unfair of me to inflict my aches and pains on you. I will make all efforts going forward to bear my afflictions with more composure.”

“Wait, so that's it? You're just gonna let your wings hurt? Suffer in silence?”

“There's nothing else I _can_ do, Dean. Heaven is closed, and anyway the few angels who remain in existence have bigger things to worry about than my petty need to be groomed. If I can focus my mind correctly, I should be able to train myself to ignore the sensations. It will simply take time and discipline. I may need to remove myself from distractions for a few weeks or months while I practice.”

“No. Uh-uh. No way you're heading off on a meditation retreat to learn how to smile through the pain, man. You can't just walk around with a couple of your limbs sending you nonstop distress signals. Not only is it dangerous for you to be distracted like that, but what if the pain gets worse? Or what if one of your wings gets injured somehow and you don't even realize there's a problem because you're 'focusing your mind' or whatever?” The thought of his friend deciding to passively accept a chronic pain made a lump rise in Dean's throat. Cas deserved better than that, if anyone did.

“I agree that there are risks involved in ignoring my wings, but what other option do I have?”

“We've got a library of lore, Cas. We can figure something out. I know I can't groom you with my lowly human hands, or even look at your wings without having my face melt off like in _Raiders_ , but there has to be _something_ I can do to help!”

At this heartfelt offer, Dean was surprised to see his friend's cheeks color. Suddenly the angel couldn't meet his eyes. _There's something he's not telling me_ , the hunter realized.

“Cas?” he said, ducking his head to catch his friend's gaze again. “Do you already know of a way I could help?”

“I wouldn't ask for your assistance, Dean,” the angel murmured, blushing still. “You also have bigger things to worry about than my wings.”

“So you're saying I _could_ help, but you're embarrassed to ask?” He got a nod in response, the angel clearly too shy now to speak. “Cas, tell me, what can I do?”

“I could bring my wings out to this plane, make them corporeal. You would be able to see and interact with them, with no risk to yourself. Perhaps you could... Straighten the worst of the feathers?”

Dean felt an excited buzz in his stomach. “Really? I could see your wings? And touch 'em? Jeez, man, why didn't you ask me to help sooner?”

Cas's blush deepened. “As I said, I didn't want to trouble you with my personal difficulties. And...”

“...And what, Cas?”

“Grooming is an.. intimate act. One performed between the closest of family, the most devoted of friends. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Cas, you're the best friend I've ever had. Besides Sam, there's nobody I'm closer to. If I can ease your pain then I'll do whatever you need. Do you wanna... Can you bring your wings out right here?”

“I would prefer more privacy. Can we use your room?”

“Sure, c'mon.” Dean picked up their beers and headed down the hall with Cas close on his heels. When they got to his room, he put the bottles down on his desk and started rolling up his sleeves. “Okay, I'm ready. Wing me.” He turned back towards the angel. “Oh.” Cas had stripped to the waist, his clothes laid neatly on the bed before him. The excitement Dean had been feeling at the prospect of seeing real live angel wings was engulfed by a wave of arousal as his eyes skated over all that smooth, tanned skin. _Damn, Cas has been hiding a body under that coat_, he thought to himself with a flush.

The angel met his eyes and smirked, clearly picking up on the sudden heightening of tension between them. Then he rolled his shoulders back and closed his eyes. In the space of heartbeat, Cas's wings just kind of... Happened. One moment there was nothing behind him, and then there were looming shapes and dark feathers. Dean moved to get a better look.

Up close, it was easy to see where the wings needed care. There were loose and broken feathers, and spots that seemed caked together with some sort of dust. But even in need of grooming, they were stunningly beautiful.

“Cas,” he whispered, too awed to speak out loud. “Your wings are gorgeous.”

“Thank you, Dean,” the angel replied. “Would you like to touch them?”

**Author's Note:**

> With this fic, I pass 50,000 words published on AO3!
> 
> Rebloggable post on tumblr for this fic is [here](https://blessyourhondahurley.tumblr.com/post/179160245071/october-17-wings-pt-1-verabadler).


End file.
